


No more Tomorrow

by Bincxn



Series: Changlix Oneshots ♥ [11]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Feelings, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, Lee Felix-centric (Stray Kids), M/M, Misunderstandings, Seo Changbin-centric, Slice of Life, Song: Tomorrow (Changbin's Masked Singer Cover), Suicidal Thoughts, spoiler ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bincxn/pseuds/Bincxn
Summary: When it’s about us, silence prevails. You don’t talk about your feelings. Are you happy with me? Or are you upset? I can’t imagine my life without you, and yet we’re drifting apart. We spend our days in heart’s silence and the noise of our own thoughts.Yesterday ever present, yet tomorrow will never come.Or will it?Tell me.-Loosely based on Tomorrow by Tablo (Changbin's masked singer cover)
Relationships: Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Series: Changlix Oneshots ♥ [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899391
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	No more Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> \- implied thoughts of suicide

His fingers shake in anguish. There’s nothing he can do but this. All roads lead him here, to a glade so often seen. Full of memories wherever he faces. A childhood lost in nature’s freedom. Birds and cicadas creating an atmosphere too tranquil for what’s to come. The early evening settling, orange light engulfing them. It’s not warm. The scarf and coat don’t warm him. Nothing does.

They stand in front of each other like so often. Affection in those eyes. For a moment, he hesitates, intentions falling apart like they always do. Words fail him, or maybe his courage, perhaps both.

The other’s quizzical expression pierced by a smile. He’s weak, smiles back. It’s wrong, contorts his mouth and he knows it’s now or never.

Like a photograph, a lovely moment emerges in his mind: a field, barley reaching up their hips. Birds singing, and the rustle of faraway trees. Him in the middle. A smile radiant enough to make him look like the happiest person on earth. Perhaps he is, in this past moment in which their hands touched with an agreement made of glee and no ill-will, but full of misguided intentions.

How long since that day? Months passed and smiles turned to frowns. Time spent in company became hard to endure, the touches full of love exchanged not true, were they?

Those days he gasped for breath, drawing air into his lungs to occupy his heart’s painful emptiness before he could surrender himself to his illusions again.

For a while, it worked.

Made him believe true what he wanted to be. Blind like a loving puppy, he followed footprints pre-made. Bend to every touch, took off to the sky with every smile and absorbed affection like a sponge. The happiest time of his life, when he could delude himself to believe something false.

Those days. He wishes them back, but they’re gone. Blissful ignorance lost on him.

.

_Receiving love doesn’t mean you have it  
Covering time doesn’t mean it passes  
Breathing doesn’t mean you live  
Doesn’t mean_

.

Happy. That’s how he would have described his life not a moment ago. All slid into place like an unpredictable, but well-cut puzzle. Random pieces aligned to a picture that no one could surpass in perfection. Yet beauty is in the holder’s eye, and while for him, a dent, a flaw or the unique is beauty, for another it might not be.

For the longest time, he believed to know him. Believed that the differences in their personalities were their charm. That no matter how far opinions diverged, there would always be a stable base of understanding. Rules unspoken but known, emotions not shown but felt, fears hushed but understood.

It firmly nestled in a crevice of his heart. He always believed the other felt the same as him. That what they had, with all its edges, corners and flaws made it perfect.

How wrong he was.

For beauty is in the holder’s eye.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

Far too easygoing for him to grasp at first. Then the implication grabs him with an icy hand around his throat. Ripped out of context, yet he knows what he’s playing at. There’s not much else it could mean.

“Let’s stop.”

It’s cold. Here, in a forest full of remembered happiness. Again and again, they shared memories here, every blade of grass soaked in warmth of days long since. Perhaps because of his silent sorrow contrasting with what once was, those days come back to him as the distant echo of something precious slipping away.

It meshes with what was and what he expected would be, this last moment that shatters all. Aware already that he will come back, long before those words reveal their truth:

Beauty is in the holder’s eye, and his beauty wasn’t enough.

.

_Baby, there’s no, no tomorrow  
I’m stopped still from that time, that place  
It’s the last lingering moment  
Although for you, it was just a passing day_

.

The same song on repeat, like it had been all evening. Every beat, every melody inscribed in his mind. He knows what comes before it arrives. It’s calming. What is to come and what will pass, it’s all clear. Something to fall into, like a safety net. A blind trust like this can be a fatal one, but all the same the best to have.

If genuinely as you think it to be.

Once, he thought there was a person he knew this well. Where every word and gesture had a meaning he could identify. He was his security, their past the base for the future to come, and the present a gift to live through. With him by his side, he believed to have a home. A safety no one could ever take away.

Yet it’s gone, and it’s not anyone’s fault but his own.

With a muted creak, the silence between songs shatters with his door opening. Chan peeks inside, his face full of empathy, but he doesn’t want to listen to words of comfort, doesn’t want to see the pity. The music mutes, a last syllable playing before it stops.

Silence.

It echoes from the room into his heart, reinforcing his spiralling thoughts with no other outlet. Music might soothe, but doesn’t solve. Nothing solves what he did. All he brought about was a situation with two results to come, and after all these days, it’s clear which it’ll be.

A part of him expected it, another fell so deep into his wishes and assumptions that it blinded him.

It only should have been a wakening call. His heart needed to hear what connected them. This confirmation never given, these things that rotated around them, never spoken of. As every step manifested itself, he concluded his plan fool-proof, fed with the illusion of knowing what was between them.

Weeks passed, and he wishes himself back to that moment to redo it.

Fool-proof turned him to a fool waiting for someone who won’t come back.

.

_Baby there’s no, no, no, no more tomorrow  
Till you come back, every day is yesterday  
._

Time drags when it used to rush right past him. Morning comes, he looks at the mirror and sees the mask of someone he can’t recognise. There’s exhaustion where it never was. A frown where he keeps trying to smile. No reassurance works, no angry words or calming ones.

Amid a pleasant day with smiles and feelings bursting in his chest, someone hit the emergency-stop.

The dates change, but he’s frozen ever since. Every day as forgettable as the last, filled with a confusion of a heart thrown into a world it never expected.

“Forget him.” Jisung keeps saying, often followed by poorly made jokes. They bring a smile to his mouth some days, but that’s all. A fleeting moment of reprieve. Like the mornings in which he wakes up in blissful post-sleep emptiness before he remembers what’s lost.

Just like that, run through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

Low voices reach his ears from the kitchen. He finds Hyunjin and Jeongin bend over a cardboard box, arranging plates inside. He doesn’t want to move, yet they keep insisting its better.

“Everything here is full of memories.” He said that time and realised his mistake immediately.

Maybe he can’t move on because wherever his steps take him, he sees him. It’s hard to forget when he imagines the sheets still smelling of him. When his shower makes him break down crying, his living room is a place of the past and his kitchen makes him realise that he never cooked enough, never listened, because his gaze was on something else than the food.

When giggles and laughter, shrieks and teasing’s float through his head inside, and even outside. By the door and in the arcade, in restaurants and bars they frequented.

To move might not help at all, might solve nothing. Pretending to forget when he spots him across the street might work from the outside. On the inside, he’s filled with all they shared. Every step a walk down memory lane. The pain twisting in him strong with the aftertaste of being discarded like something unwanted.

As if all they experienced meant nothing.

Where did he go wrong? The question taunts him with no answer. The days pass in uncertainty, yet it doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

He’s long lost to a past that doesn’t try to, but hurts him all the same.

_._

_The memories that ripped apart my heart rip the days of the calendar and fades away like the end of the year  
I live as I pretend to forget you – my world still hasn’t changed – you’re still not there_

_._

They keep talking, keep reassuring and all falls on deaf ears.

“Not long and you’ll see it as fond memories.” Seungmin says, conviction in his gaze, but it’s not true.

There won’t ever be a day in which he can remember and not drown in regrets. Weeks pass and the pain doesn’t ease. His mind a carousel, ever returning to the same circle of thoughts. A wish to repent, to undo, that will never come true.

How does one deal with this kind of feeling? To know that he ripped away what’s most precious from himself? Like a doppelganger not thinking straight, led by good-will but dishing out the opposite. Nowadays he’s nothing but a self-made fool, unable to deal with the consequences of well-planned actions.

A confirmation, the truth to surface, that’s all he wanted. A farce ended, and a truth started. How could he be so blind? To not see that the truth was flimsy and he not thinking straight? Why did he have to strive for more when happiness was at his fingertips already?

Greed made him careless.

“You wanted this, why do you struggle?” Minho asks in his unknowingness, and he represses the urge to scream that he didn’t want this.

Weeks pass like this, with him hiding the truth of his intentions, too ashamed of his false-thinking. To hide doesn’t help, of course, because the day comes in which their friends no longer want to be parted.

“You’ll see it’s not so bad.” They keep saying, not wanting to see the pain on his face.

His voice is around him all evening. There’s a happiness in it that hurts, that he wants to rip away and trample on. So many octaves of it he heard, all their time spent together, every laugh, chuckle and tone inscribed in his head, indexed like a dictionary. It stabs his heart, pulls knots into his tongue. He cannot turn his face, knowing it’s his fault.

Instead he remembers a different time. With them next to each other, exchanging lingering touches and knowing smiles. How meaningless it seemed then, and now?

Now they’re the most precious memories. Mind bathing his sorrow in them.

_._

_People all say that if you look back, you will laugh  
Even though I have a hard time turning my head that used to face you  
I don’t want to hear it, but why do they keep blabbering? I’m lingering here._

_._

One day, he knew they would be back here, facing each other across a table. Their friend’s patience only runs so deep. Yet for one who’s time doesn’t seem to pass, it’s hard to accept the quickness of it. Too soon they’re reunited when he wishes it would never happen. Not like this, not with so much pain lingering between them.

Laughter on his face, this beautiful face he longed to kiss for so many years. His eyes shine, reflecting colourful lights. A warmth radiates from his being like it always had, something that comforted him since a time he can’t remember.

Now it makes him cold.

This warmth not meant for him any longer. Soon, someone else will receive it. Will touch a face with freckles and soft skin, will brush their hands through blonde hair and listen to his deep voice.

The adoration that shines from his eyes when he likes someone, no longer meant for him.

There’s a future in his life that does no longer include him. The realisation hurts, pressing the breath out of his lungs in the most hurtful way. Before long, tears he won’t shed appear along with a misery in his chest he’ll never speak of. It’s become a friend, been with him for long enough now.

How do others survive this? The pain of being left, of a love dumped and stepped on as if it were nothing precious? He’s dying every day, with every breath that doesn’t fill his lungs enough, with every beat of his heart that spreads nothing but pain through him.

In a moment, loud and full of laughter, he stares at his plate. He smiles because he must, and those brown eyes once full of affection accidentally cross his. No matter the anguish, he cannot avert his face.

“…it doesn’t matter, right? The sun will be up long since.”

The words linger, ripped out of context, yet interpreted as if spoken with purpose. The positivity not lost on him, yet he can’t affirm its truth.

Its warm tonight, stars shining pale under the cities’ lights. No darkness deeper than the night’s, more all-consuming than one without lights around. Yet he cannot help but feel as if the one in his heart is heavier.

He rubs his arms, staring off into the distance of glittering lights and a blackness that seems to embrace him.

_._

_Don’t say that the sun will rise tomorrow  
Because it will be a darker morning than a night with you_

_._

“You can’t keep being like this.” Chan says once he catches on to a fraction of what’s happening inside him. No news for him. He knew all along it has to stop at some point.

A part of him thought the pain would dwindle with time. It didn’t. His friend’s meaningless words of soothed worries don’t help either. No matter how much they say, nothing lifts the burden in his chest. 

To be wise doesn’t heal a broken heart.

Months passed and yet the regret remains sharp. Every morning he wakes, staring at a ceiling of baby blue that he didn’t paint. Time and time again, he’s reminded of what he lost. How he must have sneaked in to paint it in the dead of the night. Just to surprise him.

How forthcoming he always was, wanting nothing but a smile in turn.

Yet he threw it away as if it meant nothing.

Why couldn’t it have been enough?

His room is untouched since that day. Plants barely alive with their caretaker gone. Framed photos where he didn’t hang them. Clothes that aren’t his hidden inside his wardrobe. Occasionally freed, so he can inhale a scent that makes his heart break, makes him cry even though he has no right to.

His own fault that all he loved vanished.

From deep inside, to the very edge of his being, he’s exposed. All is soft, quivering under the weight of his emotions. A turmoil he can’t control, can’t soothe, stirred again and again when he sees him, when their eyes meet and break apart immediately.

This is no broken heart anymore. Nowadays it’s himself. He’s broken. No piece where it belongs to, no emotion as it should be. All over the place he tries to regain control but drowns in his regrets constantly.

People say heartbreak will toughen, but that’s a lie. Heartbreak will forever leave a mark, a space where a finger easily squeezes inside to churn a wound that won’t ever heal completely. There’s no relief, nothing but a lasting worry that someone will poke their finger inside again.

There’s no point. Not for him, because his heartbreak won’t ever heal, anyway. It’s a huge, gaping wound slowly bleeding him out until nothing’s left of who he once was.

_._

_Don’t say that the ground hardens after the rain  
Because it will be a relief that is more frustrating than our worries_

_._

He’s like a leaf in the wind. Blown left and right, stirred up only to fall back down. With no empathy, he descends on a cold, harsh ground. Half a year passed, and it’s hard to believe. Only now that the trees slowly turn orange and the last warm evenings fade, he realises it.

Time passed, but for him it’s still spring.

When he looks back, there’re memories of what he did, hazy as a fogged-up mirror and quickly forgotten again. They mean nothing without him in them. Like his life. It’s just all meaningless at this point.

What should he do with a heart that refuses to heal? A mind that rejects thoughts of someone else? Love and longing that don’t fade, but become stronger even though his heart is in pieces thanks to the very person they desire.

How can he live like this? To move on as impossible as the first day.

He stops in a heap of leaves with Jisung’s hand on his shoulder. The expression in his eyes tells him he knows, but not even his friendly face can stop the twist of his gut. Not far, he hears laughter and voices, doesn’t want to look, but can’t help it.

Chan, Felix and Minho kick leaves at each other, laugh as pick up freshly fallen chestnuts. They look happy, they’re having fun. Part of him urges to join in, wants to walk straight up to him, wind his arms around his waist and pick him up to twirl him around as he had so often.

It’s too late, still he averts his face. Jisung’s fingers fall off his shoulder. No need for further consolations when his heart is inconsolable. He needs to move on, but he can’t. Part of him doesn’t want to because he knows he needs to distance himself for it to work.

In between a space of wanting and knowing better, of longing and hurting, there’s no right answer. There’s just Felix, far ahead of him, moving on with his life, oblivious to his pain. As if it meant nothing. Nothing at all.

He stops, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. Everyone moves on.

Yet for him, it’s still that one spring’s day. For Felix, it’s spring too. A different one, though. One that starts a new chapter without his name in it, without a trace of emotions that once connected them so tightly.

Left behind like it meant nothing. Twice.

How much longer until tomorrow will come for him?

Will it ever?

_._

_Everything is a mess – it’s springtime again for you but seasons don’t change for me  
Even though you say my heart will bloom again, I’ve got no tomorrow_

_._

Too soon, the time comes in which his brittle facade crumbles. Not that it’s a shock. All this time, the smiles, the laughter, while true and backed by emotions, there had been just as much pain. Every moment his eyes fall on him, his smile fades, while Changbin’s stays. The bitterness in his chest explodes, while he is unaffected.

After all these months, he should be better at hiding emotions he can’t change and won’t lessen no matter what. Even he himself had realised until too late just how deep his love ran. On the surface, he had a notion, but his heart revealed much more through pain and tears. The truth scratched free to reveal a depth he can’t handle. Not anymore.

His aim to wake up had backfired on him. Made _him_ see when he thought he was the only one not blinded.

Under him, the bench is cold. Late afternoon lets the world dim. The smell of leaves and rain lingers in the air. Chan and Minho lost in conversation to his left, Seungmin laughing with the rest, struggling to make him join their discussion. His attention keeps wandering.

Not only his friends are here today. There’s someone else, someone he only vaguely saw before. Laughter and jokes reach his ears. This lovely, silly laughter he adored so much. Made him smile along always.

Like this, it makes him want to cry.

How could he have been so misguided? To assume there’s more behind his smiles, the touches that he now so readily gives to someone he barely knows. Years and much frustration it took him to achieve a point in which he could touch him freely, even longer until he received the same.

Had he been that hard to get used to?

He knows he’s staring, but what else can he do? His heart forbids him to face away. All that transpires he needs to absorb, cram it into his heart to receive the pain of something he had and threw away.

Chan waves his hand; his attention finally falls off him. The sympathy in his friend’s eyes worsens it. There should be no sympathy for his deceptions.

Back to that time, he wants to go back when he could ignore the truth of their arrangement. When he sunk blissfully deep into their illusion and thought it true.

He wants it back.

Needs it.

_._

_Baby, there’s no, no tomorrow  
I’m stopped still from that time, that place  
It’s the last lingering moment  
Although for you, it was just a passing day_

_._

It’s disrespectful, but he can’t help it.

Perhaps he’s not ready yet, or he’s just not in the mood, but he can’t concentrate on the person in front of him.

Jisung’s ideas aren’t always good, that’s why he listened to Hyunjin for once. Now he’s on a date with someone he likes, someone who’s attractive. Their conversations strayed to their respective work, to their likes and dislikes. They joke and laugh. All should be good. It’s not, though.

Every time he listens, his mind strays. His brain offers a chart of memories, saving all he sees to compare to how Felix would have done it. When a hand touches his arm, he remembers how Felix would squeeze his in excitement. A smile that looks half-assed next to the bright, wide happiness on the blonde’s face.

The expression in those eyes, deep and open. Easy to see what he thinks, not like his date, where eyes hide what’s inside. Their face too smooth, hair too dark and voice pleasant, but not deep enough.

He likes them, yet still.

They’re just not him.

Still, he finishes it. Smiles and laughs, when on the inside, he’s dying. All he wants is a distraction from the never-ending pain. To feel a love that’s reciprocated, receive a smile of adoration and the experience of being important to someone.

Yet, it’s not working. He wants this, he does, but all his mind does is thwart it.

He can’t move on. It’s impossible, but he won’t give up when he should. There’s no wish in him to be alone forever. To watch Felix move on and be happy when he’s falling apart.

That’s why he continues. He has to, no matter how wrong it feels.

A kiss is the reward for his resolution. Wrong and awkward, with thoughts of someone else behind his closed eyes.

They never kissed. Never would.

It hurts so much more than it should.

_._

_Baby there’s no, no, no, no more tomorrow  
Till you come back, every day is yesterday_

_._

The memory alone is painful, but seeing it again is outright killing him. Close by with the same person from before, laughing and smiling as if nothing’s wrong. As if Felix isn’t dying inside. Slowly drained of all positives.

Until only emptiness is where life used to be.

Minho stops him from drinking too much. Not that it matters. Nothing does. It’s cold, but he can’t bring himself to stay inside. Winter came early, freezing the wind to an icy storm. His pants become damp and then wet as the bench de-frosts under him. Long since his fingers became numb. Yet he doesn’t want to return.

The city is beautiful and the sky clear. Darkness all around him, that far did he stray from their party. Loneliness nestles deeply inside him. What does another evening spend in solitude matter? What does it matter, when his heart isn’t capable of letting go? When it can’t embrace warm feelings, rather preferring the cold bite of pain.

The waves of the harbour are inky black, a mysterious endlessness hidden behind. Their silent lapping against the shores is pleasant, mixing with the distant hum of cars. Long he stays, watching them in the far distance, hearing leaves rustle and planes fly by high above.

Until footsteps disturb him, stepping on leaves and branches. A shake goes through the bench and he’s not alone anymore.

The smell hits him immediately, like an old friend with a knife. A hug that stabs him all the same. Why him of all people? A feeling of stiff hope surges in him. Stupid. Such a stupid thing.

“Aren’t you cold?” Changbin’s voice is soft, doesn’t disturb the night. Of course, he’s cold. They both know it.

Cold inside and out.

“A bit.”

Changbin hums, and the rustling of fabric hits his ears. A moment later, a scarf and pair of gloves enter his vision. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, he takes them. Unable to help himself, looking him in his eyes. It’s a mistake. Those dark eyes, the sharp face tugged into tender care, a distant smile that carves a way right to his heart.

Felix doesn’t look away first, keeps his eyes on his side-profile.

“I’m glad, you know? You seem happier now.” The words are so small, full of an odd emotion Felix wants to understand, but can’t. Changbin gets up to leave without waiting for an answer. A last fleeting look, then he’s gone.

As life dwindles from him, he appears happier.

Isn’t it sad how well he can fake it?

_._

_My insides are empty and my smile is dead  
But you say that I look better than when I was with you_

_._

For long he has trouble remembering, days dull and memories hazy whenever Felix is not part of them. That night though, stays stubbornly.

A day which he prayed to forget as quickly as the rest, as he shattered someone’s heart.

When he realised he’s broken and not meant for someone else’s love. He’s a waste of time, unable to cut himself loose from someone in the past. Instead, Felix is still there. Right in his mind and heart, having taken it all without asking.

Loneliness had been there all along. Not even the warmth of another person could extinguish this emptiness in his chest. There’s only one solution. One impossible to achieve.

He shouldn’t be thinking of himself. Should think of the broken heart he inflicted, but the guilt drives right past him. No space left for something else, and he hates it. Hates himself more from day to day. This inability. All of them. No matter how much he tries to change, to solve them, he fails.

He’s collapsing because of a love lost and a heart broken beyond repair.

How pitiful can he be?

It’s enough. He’s at a point where he just wants to stop. It’s been more than half a year. It should be better. Why isn’t it? The pain is fresh as yesterday, his options running thin just as his will to try. All he does results in negatives. It’s not worth living this kind of live.

No spark of happiness staying, no smile that doesn’t fade too soon, no. It’s all pain and anguish. Accompanied by a loneliness so final, he clawed his hands out on it. Scratched at its thick walls until his nails broke and blood smeared everywhere.

He’s not better and he won’t be. This is a love refusing to die. There’s no return ticket. The old him won’t come back, yet he’s stuck in the past.

Time will run out, eventually. To deceive his friends will only work so long and after…?

Will there be more?

He’s already at his limits, he might as well just…

Just stop.

_Let’s stop._

Yes, let’s stop.

_._

_You say that you can let out a sigh of relief now  
But I’m running out of breath – the smile doesn’t deceive only me._

_._

On that fateful Thursday, it just bursts out of him.

How he could keep it inside for so long, it’s a riddle he can’t solve. They don’t look as if they expected it. There’s just Minho’s shocked gaze, Chan’s disbelief, and Seungmin staring as the air between them clears.

It all makes sense for them now. The way he acted, things he said and expressions he made. To understand that they faked their relationship for fun in a drunken bet lost, that his feelings had been true from day one and that Felix ignored the truth at first, but eventually couldn’t anymore.

That his lack of courage made him stop their farce because he hoped to gain a confession that never came. It all ended that day and he can’t believe how stupid he was. When he had been so certain of the other’s feelings but couldn’t get his own over his lips.

A fool, worthy of a fool’s prize.

“So, all this time…” Chan says, and his eyes widen with Felix’s nod.

“I’m falling apart.” The words barely make it over his lips, breaking at every edge, “I’ve been for all this time.”

Minho is the first to hug him, also the first to call him stupid. It’s true. He is stupid. Had he just confessed earnestly instead of trying to play foolish games, it would be different. A rejection is better than this. Wouldn’t have made the air between them as painful. Maybe he could have healed from it then.

Instead, he’s caught in limbo. At the end of the road, unable to take a step in either direction.

All this keeps rushing out of him in words messy and sentences half-finished. Again, and again he sobs over the same words, lets the whispers of comfort hug him before they vanish without leaving a trace.

They’re not mean, but they call him an idiot and they’re right.

A fool blinded by his fears.

A coward.

_._

_I did become normal – my heart became burdensome, so I emptied it out a lot  
I’m really going crazy – please stop saying words of comfort that I can’t hear_

_._

The days keep passing; he lost count of time. For months, the date hasn’t changed while the clock ticks. Outside, the snow turned into molten water with continuous rain. Clouds grey and dark float past, the trees are bare and the mood bleak. It’s been days since he left this house.

Between his fingers, the mug is warm, and the tea smells good. He’s better here, with his family and memories of his childhood that don’t inflict pain on him. His days spent by the window in his old room, wrapped in a blanket, staring at swaying trees, enjoying the peace and silence.

A last-ditch effort that worked. Far away from all that happened in the last years. There’s nothing but him and his memories here. A warmth that reaches him, makes him forget. Heals what’s broken.

Still, at night he often thinks about it. All the wrongs he did, and the pain waiting for his return.

It’s easier now. With more distance, clearer thoughts and less hurt. After all this time, an odd need resurfaced from a better time: the urge to talk to him. Just them, one-on-one, joking and laughing like they used to. Nothing more than that. A simple conversation between the friends they used to be.

To think about it now, it’s easy. He fears it won’t stay like that once he’s back. In his new apartment that has no personality, but double the plants. It’s empty and void of the love he’s got here. No one waits for him, no one will in the foreseeable future. The loneliness will get to him. It always does. No one can stop it because it’s different.

It’s a loneliness born from a place in his mind in which the urge to be with him rests. There’s no replacement. No love, no friendship, nothing.

Now he’s better, though, can deal with it easier. A week ago, he wouldn’t have thought like this. When he reached his lowest point, thought about giving up. After struggling to not drown, he did, but they saved him. Sometimes, he fears how strict his friends can be – but they did well, sending him home.

He’s not sure if he would still be here if they hadn’t.

His perspective changed. Once he’s back, he’ll see.

There’s no choice but to get over this. He has to.

He doesn’t want to drown again.

_._

_Don’t say that you can forget love by having a different love  
Because it will be a lonelier meet than separation_

_._

The occasion isn’t funny, yet there’s an odd urge to laugh crawling up his throat. Jisung’s face is a mask of many things he doesn’t want to understand. They’re alone and Felix hadn’t been alone with him in a long time. Their friend group split for a while, and Jisung isn’t Changbin’s best friend for nothing.

His mouth moves, the words filter in halfway through.

“-and he told me you regret it. If that’s true, why break up? Why, Felix?”

Why?

The question meets his circling thoughts too often. A good idea back then. Something he thought would fulfil the wish for more he had, yet it didn’t. When he thinks back nowadays, he realises his idiocy.

With his shrug, Jisung sighs. Felix’s feeling of uneasiness grows as the seconds span. The knowledge of their farce now having reached the other side of their group as well. Changbin hadn’t told them himself. Part of his mind wants to analyse this information; another is too tired to try.

“You need to talk with him.”

A statement that resounds overly loud between them. It strangles him, because that’s the furthest thing he wants to do. Every time they exchange words, his heart bleeds out right after.

“No.”

“Yes. You will.” Jisung’s voice is firm, eyes withholding anger. “Do you even know what you’ve done? Have you _looked_ at Changbin this past year?”

He did. Had looked too much, taking in smiles and laughter, his happiness. It hurts just thinking back.

“I have. He looked happy.”

Jisung’s eyebrows rise so quick, he expects the disbelieving laugh right after.

“You’re such an idiot, Felix.” Jisung takes something out of his pockets, fumbling with a paper that unfolds to reveal a finely written script. It’s no doubt Changbin’s handwriting. “We had to bring him home because we feared for his life.” The words are sombre, the paper shoved over the table. “These are his most recent lyrics.”

Felix takes the paper, fingers numb:

_._

_Don’t say that time heals all  
Because each moment will be like death for me  
Yes, receiving love doesn’t mean you have it  
Covering time doesn’t mean it passes  
Breathing doesn’t mean you live  
Now I know_

_._

As expected, his apartment is cold when he returns. The heaters warm, yet the void of another presence remains. His plants at least appear healthy, a small comfort, that Jeongin kept them alive.

The fridge is full of food he didn’t buy, his bedsheets changed and everything cleaned. Someone released their nervous energy in his apartment. Probably Hyunjin. He’s thankful, writes the same in their chat and drops the phone to the table after. Not much for him to do here. No window with an outlook to trees, just buildings and cars around.

A mug of tea still reaches his fingers. He idles, restless and yet calmer than before. This apartment bears almost no memories. He barely lived this past year. A carton still packed when he left. Now he finds it gone, finds photos hung on his walls and old mementos placed on his cupboards.

Even Felix’s remembrances he had never given back are there. On photos he’s smiling that sunny smile of his. His handwriting displayed on cards. Even one of his shirts made it to his wardrobe again.

It still hurts, but not as much. If he doesn’t let his mind stray too far, it’s okay. To keep that grip on himself will be hard, but he has no choice.

In his kitchen, they hung a calendar he can’t remember buying. Photos of him and his friends on the months, some things scribbled here and there. It’s lovely, and he smiles, before his eyes catch on to today’s date.

It’s been a year now.

Time really passed, didn’t it? The feelings are still as strong as if it had been yesterday. For a while, he remembers that day in all its details. The coldness, the snowdrops poking their heads out the earth and Felix, saying those words.

Perhaps he should start there. To confront himself with the pain before talking to the source. It sounds like a good idea, still, just in case, he informs his friends. Today, he might feel stable as he hadn’t in a long time, but it doesn’t mean he truly is.

Whatever will happen, however many emotions may cross his mind – he’ll live them, and leave them there. 

_._

_No, no more tomorrow  
Till you come back  
No, no, no more tomorrow  
Till you come back to me  
._

He wakes up with Jisung’s words in his mind and the lyrics in front of his eyes. Had ever since that day. It’s messy. A weird relief, a hope and all too much guilt mixed together. The implication not lost on him, not when Jisung had so perfectly spelled it out for him. Not when Changbin’s own words were like the confession he craved.

To think he was right all along. That he wasn’t delusional. What they had had been true and real, it’s just that Felix broke a heart when he meant to do the opposite. The things he expected to pass didn’t, and then they both kept their distance.

Didn’t talk when they should’ve, too lost in their own pain, their thoughts and beliefs.

They misunderstood each other.

And now he stands here, in the entry of the forest they parted. Hyunjin’s message still lingers in his mind, telling him to go. It’s unplanned. Felix can’t predict what will happen when they see each other. What even would be the best outcome?

Can he even still dare hope for something?

His steps are quiet and cautious. Part of his mind screams to turn back, while the other anticipates what’s to come with withheld urgency.

“Felix?”

Changbin spots him from where he’s been lingering on the broad pathway. The surprise on his face morphs quietly, turning into a wry smile that he’s never seen on the other’s face before. Changbin tugs his hands into his pockets, walking closer. It’s odd how breathless it makes him. Terrifying how intense his urge to do something is. To speak, hug, anything.

“I’m sorry.” Felix says, words bursting from his lips without consent. “What I did, it was so- “

Changbin doesn’t follow him, it’s clear in his expression. Too late, Felix realises that Changbin doesn’t know the truth yet. No one told him.

“It’s okay. I mean, you… just did what you had to do, I guess.”

“No, you don’t understand.” He’s desperate to get it over his lips, “I love you Changbin. Always have. I stopped that fake because I wanted something real. I thought you felt the same and expected you to confess, but you never did and I thought…” He takes a breath, finding no proper reaction in Changbin’s eyes. “I don’t know what I thought, but I still love you and I can’t get over you. I’m miserable. There’s no morning without you. My heart stayed here that day, lingering and unable to let go. I wished I could turn back time, and just… confess instead.” He swallows, “I’m so sorry.”

_._

_Baby there’s no, no tomorrow  
I’m stopped still from that time, that place  
It’s the last, lingering moment  
Although for you, it was just a passing day_

_._

The silence lasts for a long while. Everything filters into his mind slow as the understanding. He’s grasping at straws all this time, and suddenly it makes sense. His feelings aren’t and never were stupid, no, it’s been them who’ve been stupid.

There’re no words coming to his mind that describe what he experiences. So much relief suddenly in him, he doesn’t know where to go with it. His love returned, has always been. Their moments weren’t fake, it was all true. All of it. Every smile and lingering touch. All the secret looks and suggestive things said. The goosebumps when they touched and the tenderness they exchanged.

Nothing a lie, all true.

After all this time, he knows how Felix feels. Truly does and did all along. He observes the fear in the other’s eyes, the desperation that he’s different now, that he doesn’t want him any longer. Maybe he shouldn’t. Not after this year of pain and anguish. Not after thinking about ways to escape this pain and suffering so much.

But they both suffered, haven’t they? Stuck alike in the past. It may be different reasons, but pain is subjective. There’s no judging anyone’s pain.

“Do it, then.” Changbin says after an eternity of ordering his thoughts. “Confess like you wish you had.”

The emotions growing on Felix’s face make him smile, there’s hope, and it’s not unfounded. Felix cards a hand through his hair, nervousness clear on his features. He clears his throat and looks Changbin in the eyes like he hasn’t in a long time.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” He says, “Let’s stop not talking to each other. No more lies, no more fakes to hide what we truly feel.” Felix smiles, seeing that there’s no need to fear rejection. “I love you, Binnie. I have for a long time and I can’t stop. I know that now. It’s you or no one.”

Changbin decides it’s enough at that point. No part of his mind can hold him back when he reaches for Felix’s hands that the other gives freely. The touch is warm and familiar, even though he hadn’t held his hands in forever. Their fingers wrap around each other like they had a hundred times.

“I love you too, Lix.” He squeezes his fingers, seeing the words hit him, making his smile bright as the sun, “and I can’t be without you either. My life has been meaningless. There’re no memories of what I did while being without you. Time passed, yet I stayed here. It’s like there’s no tomorrow without you.” Changbin draws him closer cautiously, but finds no rejection. “Don’t leave me. You can’t. I’m nothing without you. I’ll breath but not live. Please, tell me I’m forever yours.”

There’s no verbal response, just a nod and watery eyes in the fraction of a second before their lips meet. The pace off, because they’re both eager but try to hold back.

And even after all this time, all the pain, it’s the best thing he ever experienced. That kiss burns itself deep to his memory. The way their lips fit perfectly, the way their hands desperately try to close the distance between them. Physical and emotional. A salvation to a fight they could have never won.

All pieces of them align as they used to.

The smile against his lips is one he shares as the baggage of a painful year falls off his shoulders. Enlightened by the sun, all darkness leaves until only happiness stays.

Pure, free happiness that he shares with Felix, just as he did previous pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I became obsessed with the lyrics of this song and wrote this fic in three days as a result. I need sleep
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
